Morning sun screamed through the parted shades in Donna's bedroom window. She shielded her eyes, turned to the side and smiled. She expected Hunter to be lying next to her, his warm breath on her neck, his strong arms over her, like how it went in the movies after the first night a couple spent together. But instead of a gorgeous man in her bed, Donna faced an empty pillow. And his clothes were gone. Hunter had gone away without sharing his last name or even his phone number. Great. Isn't that what always happened to a woman after giving her heart and soul to the man of her dreams? Donna stretched, got up, and took a long, slow shower. She got dressed, checked for a note, or a sign, or anything at all other than her soreness down there to let her know Hunter had actually spent the night. She found nothing.
Lovely.
Then a memory came back to Donna.
“Someday you’ll meet two men. One will sweep you off your feet and the other will knock you down. Beware – they are from a dark place where mortals dare not tread.”
Hunter swept me off my feet and Stephen knocked me down…but Grandma said to beware of them both…
Donna called Mo.
“Hello, Donna,” Mo sounded sleepy.
“Hi, Mo. Are you busy today? Working?”
“The newspaper's closed on Sundays, you know that.” She yawned loud into the phone. “You're in some strange moods lately, Donna.”
Donna rubbed her temple to persuade an oncoming headache to just keep going. “Is it okay if I come over?”
“Of course it's okay, weirdo. Why wouldn't it be? Just give me an hour to get human.”
Nobody was in the kitchen, so Donna made toast and listened to herself crunch it. Before she'd moved away, Donna had enjoyed Sunday mornings with her parents. The ritual had gone like this: Every other weekend Dad shuffled through the Sunday Times, sharing the department store circulars and comics with Donna. Then he'd holler to Mom, “Hey Carol, listen to this...” and read something from the op-ed section that made Mom laugh or swear or sometimes both. Mom would set a plate of luscious-smelling, buttery, syrupy waffles in front of them and they'd all sit down together. The following weekend, Mom and Donna would play solitaire on the computer while Dad whipped up fried eggs and bacon. Once Donna got old enough, both parents sat at the table, each doing their own thing while Donna fixed her favorite family breakfast of blueberry pancakes slathered in butter and sour cream.
Donna glanced toward the sink where she used to pour juice and coffee on those Sunday mornings. That's when the note caught her eye - a hastily scribbled thing on an envelope, displayed against the liquid soap bottle.
Donna,
Your father and I would like to talk with you at noon today. Please be here.
XO,
Mom.
Donna wadded up the note and threw it away. She grabbed her keys, put down the Mustang's top and screeched the tires out of the garage and into the warm, sunny morning light. The sky was crisp; tree leaves trembled in a light breeze and Mr. Thomas from down the street puttered around his yard on a riding lawnmower, making the whole street smell like fresh cut grass. Across from his house, three kids threw a ball to their Golden Retriever who barked excitedly and ran after it. Everybody was just going about with their business, perfectly content to enjoy their normal, stable lives, utterly clueless that a vampire had spent the night in their normal, stable neighborhood on Sunflower Street, and that vampire had taken Donna’s long-overdue virginity…then disappeared.
Jill's car wasn't in the driveway when Donna arrived at Mo's house, probably because Jill was at her second part time job. Donna wondered if that was how it would be for Mo when she became a single parent. She pushed that thought from her mind, knocked on the door, and when nobody answered, let herself in.
Mo pulled a green t-shirt over her red head and thundered down the stairs, looking and sounding like a blazing Christmas tree tumbling down a mountainside.
“Geez, Donna. I said give me time to look human.”
Donna apologized and said Mo looked perfectly human as is. “But should you be running like that, I mean, in your condition?”
“Well you see,” Mo chuckled, “I'm pregnant, not terminal.” Donna reddened and looked at the ground. “It's not a disease and you don't have to be so weird about it. It's not like you can catch it from me.” She pretended to sneeze. “Oops! Now you're knocked up, too.” She chuckled some more.
“Fine,” Donna's voice held an edge. “Excuse me for being concerned about my best friend's health.”
Mo's nose crinkled. “What crawled up your ass today?” She trotted to the kitchen, pulled a can of soda from the fridge, popped it and guzzled. Donna hoped a prenatal doctor appointment would soon address the issue of eating for two. “So how'd the interview go?” Mo belched and then continued talking before waiting for Donna’s answer, which was fine by her since she didn't have one. “I really appreciate the use of your old car and you know your mom's going to have a fit, which makes me appreciate the gesture even more. Thanks.” Sometimes, when Mo's mouth smiled, her eyes did, too - like now. “You do seem like you're in a weird mood, though. Is something wrong?”
Donna wasn't sure how to approach the subject of losing her virginity to a vampire, so she told Mo what Rochelle had said and how she suspected Samee had influenced her to say it.
“I'm not even sure if she's lying about Matt.” Donna shook her head. “What if it's true?”
“What a bitch!” Mo slammed her empty soda can on the counter, burped again.
“Mo, don't get so upset.” Donna didn't remember where, but she knew she'd read something about the first trimester being important for keeping stress in check. Mo pulled another soda, popped it, and offered Donna one. She shook her head. Mo shrugged, slammed the fridge door shut, stormed to the living room and plopped down hard on the couch.
“Why would Rochelle say such bitchy things? You guys were friends, against my better judgment of course, but friends nonetheless.”
Donna shrugged. “I don't know, but I think Samee might have something to do with it.”
“I have always thought very little of Rochelle, as you know,” Mo tipped her soda can at Donna. “But this is low, even for her.” Donna agreed. She also wondered if Mo’s blood pressure was going to rise as a result of this little chat. She couldn't stand the idea of Mo's baby being born all screwed up because of Donna's bad day. “Speaking of Little Miss Sally Sunshine,” Mo set down her empty soda can and propped her feet on the coffee table. “When Jamie and I left the club the other night, she had herself latched like a barnacle to that guy we thought was the kidnapper. Kind of gross, if you ask me. He's practically old enough to be her dad.”
Donna's face paled. “Are you sure it was Hunter?”
“Who?”
“Hunter. The kidnapper – I mean the not kidnapper.”
Mo frowned. “Are you kidding? There's no mistaking that guy’s weird skin tone. Or freakish height. Trust me, it was him, and Sassie was wrapped around him like cling-wrap.”
“Samee,” Donna whispered then stumbled backward.
“Donna, what's wrong?” Mo pulled her to the couch and sat her down. Donna's mouth opened and her guts spilled out. She told Mo all about Hunter. That he took her home on Friday night and that they'd met at the park the night before. That they’d made love. She told Mo everything. Well, almost. She didn't mention the fangs. Then she burst into tears. Mo pulled Donna close, rocked her, soothed her, and stroked her hair. Like Mom used to do. Maybe Mo had maternal instincts after all. “Are you going to be okay?” she finally asked.
“I'll never be okay,” Donna sniffed. “I should've known better than to trust him.” Mo nodded. But what did she know about any of that now? Mo had a nice guy who didn't double as a stripper pole for cute little high school girls.
Mo got up and paced the room. “I'm going to personally strangle that bitch.”
Donna rubbed away a tear. “Which one?”
“Both of them.” Mo's gaze locked on Donna. “Did you
guys use a condom?” Donna shook her head and braced for one of Mo's “you should have known better even though I didn't” rants, but instead, Mo spoke gently. “If your period is late by even one hour, get a pregnancy test.”
“He said we couldn't get pregnant.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “Oh, bullshit. Listen and learn, Donna. Sex 101. Men will say anything to get a woman in bed.”
“Well,” Donna felt defensive, or stupid for believing Hunter. “Even if we had used a condom, it might not have mattered. Look what happened to you and James...Jamie. Whatever.”
“And I'm scared.” Mo tilted her head and laughed nervously. “What happens if I'm a bad mother? What if I put the diaper on my kid's head?” They laughed, which chased away the ghosts of two-timing ex-roommates, nightmare monsters and virginities lost to a so-called vampire. In fact, the more Donna thought about Hunter's story, the more ridiculous it seemed. How could she have ever believed it? Hunter probably slipped a hallucinogenic in her smoothie when they were at the park. Well, he certainly wouldn't get the chance to do it again. She'd learned her lesson, hopefully before it was too late. Donna glanced at Mo's belly, still flat as ever.
“You’ll be a good mom,” she assured her.
Jill showed up a few minutes later, loaded down with grocery sacks. Donna and Mo helped her whip up a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. It wasn't exactly like breakfast at home with her parents, but the sheer ordinariness of sizzling bacon and cracked eggs made Donna feel better. She loved how quickly the kitchen smelled like a greasy diner. Jill piled mountains of food on old, chipped plates - the kind Caroline McCormick would never allow in her kitchen. Then all three women sat at the rickety table to eat and gossip and giggle and act like everything under the sun was good and fine and absolutely perfect exactly how it was. They talked about Jill's latest date, which made them laugh, and Mo's latest raise, which made them celebrate. 11:30 rolled around way too quickly.
“I have to go,” Donna said. A note of sadness crept into her tone. Jill thanked her for helping with breakfast and hugged her for letting Mo borrow the Sentra.
“Call me later,” Mo winked. “And don't let that cheating freak anywhere near you again.”
“I doubt he'll even try,” Donna replied. And something about saying it out loud made the sting even more painful.
She sensed something was wrong the moment she pulled the Mustang in the driveway. Maybe it was because Dad's red Jeep was on the street, instead of in the driveway, where it was normally parked. Donna went inside and the feeling intensified the moment she crossed into the family’s formal living room. The room had been showcased last year in “Massachusetts Masterpiece” magazine, just after Mom had hired a celebrated designer to “spiffy up the room for the holidays.” The spiffing up cost almost $30,000 and caused Donna's parents to not talk to each other from December 4 through New Year's Day. Now, both parents were perched like mannequins in that exquisite living room. Dad looked uncomfortable in the brown leather club chair and Mom sat stiff-backed on the linen sofa. They looked up when Donna stepped in. Did they know about Hunter? Did they know he'd spent the night? Did they intend to give her the “not while you're living under our roof, young lady” lecture? She lowered herself in the overstuffed, Wedgwood blue chair, chewed on her fingernails and felt a tinge of resentment for her parents still having a say over what she did or who she did it with.
“I thought you got over that unbecoming habit,” Mom indicated toward Donna's nail biting. “Your father and I have decided to separate.” She looked toward Dad, perhaps for moral support, which was not forthcoming. His gaze was locked on the floor. “We think under the circumstances it would be for the best.”
“What circumstances? The circumstances surrounding the mess I cleaned up in the kitchen?”
Dad cleared his throat. “We're not going into details at this time.”
“Is this about Sam?”
Mom and Dad looked surprised.
“Of course it’s not about Sam, honey.” Dad finally said. “It’s about a pair of people who are having – troubles.”
Donna had never seen Dad look so old and tired. Mom, on the other hand, looked as crisp as ever. She never seemed to lose that about herself.
“Your father will be moving to the city, closer to his office.”
A large suitcase set near Dad's feet. Donna frowned at it.
“Is it true, Dad?” He tried to give a reassuring smile. “So where does that leave me?” Donna looked from one parent to the other.
Mom spoke up. “You can stay here, with me.”
“That's not what I meant.”
Mom sighed. “Let's not make this any more difficult than it already is. You're hardly a child that needs to be coddled through her parents' separation. This is our decision and there's nothing more to say.”
Dad caught Donna's gaze and looked at her apologetically before getting up, miserably. “I'll be going.”
“So will I.” Donna tromped upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to shake the bookshelf. She sat on the bed with her arms crossed, waiting for her parents to acknowledge how their selfish choice would impact their only surviving offspring and to change their minds because of it. But instead of that, Dad's Jeep churned to life and pulled away from the sidewalk, followed a few minutes later by Mom's black Lexus, which emerged from the garage. After ten minutes of dreadful silence, Donna went downstairs and found another note on the kitchen counter.
Donna,
I understand that this hurts you, but you're an adult and should strive to act like one. This is not about you. It's about your father and me.
Staying with a friend tonight,
Mom.
The last time Donna had checked, Mom had associates, co-workers, employees, a financial manager and family members. She did not have “friends.” But she was right about one thing. Donna was behaving childishly. If her parents didn't want to be part of this family anymore, what business was it of hers? She clenched her jaw, got back in her car and drove to Autumn Lane - to the dead-end road and the house that had kept secrets in and strangers out for as long as Donna could remember.
But that was about to change.
chapter nine